


On the Care and Feeding of Dangerous Animals

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Series: Frost and Feathers [2]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Downstairs in Arendelle, Gen, Not really what you mean by wingfic, POV Outsider, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Arendelle castle servants have been known to turn out minor miracles in the past, but getting thirteen princes cleaned and dressed in time for dinner--especially the one with a swan wing for an arm--is going to set a new record. A companion to and set during the last part of "Wings of Winter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Care and Feeding of Dangerous Animals

It wasn't really fair that Erling had been assigned to Hans in the first place; Kai had said as much the night before the Winter Festival when a boatful of royals had been dumped on the palace of Arendelle with no warning and only three servants between them, and two of them maids for the Queen. Erling's father had been the old King's manservant for decades, advanced age being the only reason he hadn't been on the fateful voyage that claimed the King's life, and Erling had waited patiently for one of the princesses to get married to a man of station or have a son so he could offer his services properly. But in the bustle and catastrophe of that evening, Kai had dumped quite a different problem in his lap.

"It's not fair," Kai said, "But it's an emergency."

"What?" Erling had expected to be told that they were still short and he'd have to buttle for two or three of the princes--they were understaffed badly enough that his father had been called in to attend Crown Prince Martin, and the old man was already taking charge of the two boys seeing to princes Erik and Egon.

Kai's mouth pulled slightly at the sides, the closest he ever came to showing despair. "It's Prince Hans."

It didn't take Erling long to place the name. "The one who tried to kill both the Princess and the Queen?"

"There was a magical accident, and he's got a swan wing for a left arm."

The first thing that Erling wanted to say was completely inappropriate for a gentleman's gentleman, even amongst the company. "You don't say," he said instead, and then, "... wait."

"I don't have to remind you," Kai reminded him, "That he's the twin brother of our recent houseguest, whom our queen wishes to make the best impression on."

Erling did not exclaim in alarm and anger that Hans had tried to kill both Princess Anna and Queen Elsa in recent memory; he loathed repetition and Kai knew the story as well as he did. Nor did he ask why Kai had singled out him. Drawing up to his full height (shorter than Kai by a clear two inches,) Erling nodded and said, "I'll do my best with him."

"Don't worry, Erling," Kai said. "It's only for a couple of days at most."

(At that memory, Erling occasionally still rolled his eyes.)

Erling had seen Prince Hans briefly during the mess surrounding Queen Elsa's coronation--they all had; he'd made quite a good impression on the staff at the time, with a head for organization and a willingness to help coupled with an uncanny instinct for staying out of people's way. (Living in a castle with Princess Anna underfoot had helped Erling to conclude this last talent was a rare gift.) His shocking behavior afterward was only proof that you couldn't judge a man's character in a day. Erling dug into his professional composure and went to meet Prince Hans for the second time.

"Who is it?" the prince answered his knock.

"Erling, your highness. I'm here to assist you."

"Oh! Thanks, I--actually, I need a hand with this--" The door opened and Erling got his second look at the royal who had caused so much trouble.

He had been hard traveled recently; Erling made a quick appraisal of the prince's state as he stepped inside. Boots scuffed and muddy with a weakness starting in the left sole; given the few hours until supper it was probably best to wait until the next morning to replace it. Mud and grass stains on his trousers (blue,) button missing on waistcoat (gold,) missing cravat, obvious grass stains and seam wear on tailcoat (white with turquoise embroidery, cut in aggressively youthful style.) Bath, haircut and shave all called for. And of course there was the arm.

Wing.

Well, it was rather the most obvious thing about him now, Erling thought. At least white was in the colors of the Southern Isles and he wouldn't spend the rest of his life clashing with his plumage.

At the moment, bunched around his left shoulder was another obvious problem, some sort of knit garment in gray-green that Prince Hans had obviously attempted to remove without assistance and had gotten caught on his feathers. Erling examined the fibers and tugged gently. It turned out to be one of the nettle shirts that Princess Helena had been busily crocheting, this one missing an arm.

"Does this hold sentimental value, your highness?" Erling asked.

Prince Hans hesitated. "I..."

That was, in Erling's estimation, as good as a yes. "Can I ask you to extend your wing for a moment, sir?"

The word 'wing' seemed to take the prince off guard. At least, that was the explanation Erling had for getting knocked in the chest by a ton of swan feathers a moment later. "I'm so sorry!" Prince Hans said, recoiling. "I'm so--are you all right?"

Erling took a deep breath and straightened himself. "No bruises save to dignity, sir," he said reassuringly. "Try that again?"

Prince Hans was looking at his wing as though it had betrayed him, which Erling supposed as as good a description as any. Gingerly, he managed to extend it to full (and impressive) wingspan, this time without hitting Erling or the furniture.

Without waiting for something else to go wrong, Erling stretched the nettle shirt as far as it would go and pulled it straight off. Prince Hans' startled yelp was lost in the flutter of feathers. Neither wing nor shirt were significantly damaged when Erling checked a moment later.

He folded the shirt and placed it on the bedside table for the moment. Prince Hans wiggled his wing and then withdrew it. "Thank you," the prince said, and smiled. "Helena worked so hard on it, you know."

"Indeed, your highness," Erling said. "I'll have a bath drawn for you, though there might be some delay."

Prince Hans waved his remaining hand graciously. "I'm in a queue behind two queens, a king, two princesses, and twelve brothers. I understand."

This was shaping up to be a problem. Erling needed to get Prince Hans' clothes off him in order to return them to a state fit for wearing, but the prince had brought nothing else to wear. Leaving a prince to stew in his bathwater for an extra twenty minutes was a minor sin, leaving him naked in his bedchamber was a mortal one.

Erling checked the wardrobe and sighed in relief. Preparing the guests' chambers had happened rapidly, but his fellows had taken the warning that the family was arriving mostly without luggage and left some necessities. The gold house coat Erling found on its hangar may have been twenty years out of style, but it would serve for propriety's sake.

"I'll have to see to your clothes, your highness," Erling said, then hesitated.

"Ah, yes," Prince Hans said. He scratched at the back of his neck gingerly. "I've never needed that much help getting undressed, but given the circumstances..."

Between the two of them they rapidly discovered that the disappearance of the sleeves of Prince Hans' garments did not result in a hole large enough for their removal over a full set of flight feathers. Erling effected a solution with a pair of scissors and a seam ripper before the prince had time to argue.

"Nice work," Prince Hans said when he'd been stripped to his undershirt. He fingered the new discontinuity in his tailcoat and sighed. "I always liked this coat..."

"I'll have it taken care of, your highness," Erling stated. Of course the house coat had both of its sleeves. A few moments with the seam ripper and he had that sorted, at least temporarily, as well.

The rest of Prince Hans' clothes were more forgiving of his condition. Erling left the prince in robe and slippers at his desk, drafting a letter, and took the pile of clothes and the prince's requests for something to read and something to eat with him as he retreated downstairs.

"Don't ask about the baths," Kai warned him as he passed him on the stair.

"What about barbers?"

Kai pulled his pocketwatch out and checked it. "We have Guillame and Morten coming in from town, they should be here in a minute to help Sverre. Also Pierre Fauberge to help with the tailoring."

Erling winced. "Lovely." He darted down to the cleaning room, where Fiona was holding sway with a hot iron and cursing, regularly, sometimes in Gaelic. Erling set down his load, picked up the distressed tailcoat, and said, "Rescue me."

"No," she said shortly.

"Spot clean, steam press, mending," he retorted. "I can do some of the stitching but the grass stains have set."

"They all have nettle stains from those cassocks, you arse," Fiona snapped. "I can pull your head out for you but I can't magic up another sleeve."

"He doesn't need one, unless you've also got another arm," Erling said calmly. "But we'll need a fastening on the side."

That took Fiona aback enough she actually set down her iron. "Lopped it off?"

"Magical accident," Erling said. "It's now a swan wing."

"Oh, you've got Prince Hans," she said. "Rotten luck."

"We all endure," he said, carefully not guessing if she meant his luck or Prince Hans'.

Fiona took the coat and hissed at Erling's handiwork. "This isn't going to join neatly," she said. "And he wears them cut to the skin, doesn't he? No ease to speak of, skinny thing. Well, it'll do for tonight." She put the coat on a pile of similarly abused garments. "We've got lucky with some of them and found working spare from his old majesty's wardrobe, may he rest. See if you can't find something clean in the lot."

Their previous king, may he rest in peace, had fortunately been a tall man. Erling found a pair of blue trousers that could be hemmed to fit and a white shirt that would serve, along with a cravat and pin and clean undergarments. He poked his head into the kitchen to suggest someone might make up Prince Hans some sandwiches, then went to see if he could get ahold of their tailor.

When he got to the workroom, Erling had to force himself not to wince. The other servants had not only had the same idea, most of them had gotten there first.

Jens was sitting in one corner, head bowed over his work, a huge stack of clothing to be mended or altered in front of him. At the extreme other end of the room, Pierre Fauberge was sitting nearly idle, slowly hand-stitching a seam.

Jens looked up at Erling's entrance and shook his head desperately. He was a thin man going to grey, and most of his work these days involved occasional mending for a guest who had taken a spill on a hunting trip. Erling _liked_ Jens. Everyone liked Jens.

Erling girded his loins and turned to the other side of the room. "Hello, Pierre."

"Erling, Erling," Pierre said, shaking his head. "When we get out of this, you'll need to come see me in town. A man who has thrown his back out for his masters needs a new suit."

Erling bit his tongue. He could stand communists, when necessary; he could handle merchants any day, but a man with the worst habits of each was infuriating. "In the meantime," he said as evenly as he could, "I need these cut down."

"How you can work like this," Pierre said casually as he took the cloth out of Erling's hands, "I will never know. The beck and call of your so-called betters-- _merde,_ " he said, finally catching a look at the state of Prince Hans' trousers. "I thought these were gentlemen."

"Princes," Erling found himself correcting him. "Can you cut the others down to match those?"

"Of course," Pierre said, stung.

"Can you match them _quickly_?" Erling goaded him.

Pierre's eyes narrowed. "My dear comrade," he said, "I'm a professional."

Erling reluctantly left the tailor to his work, after making sure Pierre realized that the new shirt needed _one_ sleeve, not two. He diverted himself to the library to find a book--collected records of traveler's meetings with magical creatures, not the most gripping reading but hopefully inoffensive--and looked for someone who could give him an estimate on the bath.

"Don't ask yet," Kai said as he came down from the great hall.

Erling scowled. "When can I ask?"

"At last half an hour," Kai said.

Erling shook his head. Then he went back to the kitchen to collect the plate of sandwiches from the aggrieved cook, and made his way upstairs again to Prince Hans' room.

"That was fast," the prince told him when he arrived.

"Unfortunately there will be a delay on the bath," Erling reported, setting the sandwiches down on a clear space on the writing desk. "And I hope the reading material will be acceptable."

"Anything, fine, thank you," Prince Hans said. When he picked up the book, he gripped it so hard his knuckles turned white.

Erling observed for a moment, then said, "Can I get you a brandy, your highness?"

" _Yes,_ " the prince said forcefully. "Yes, it's been... a difficult morning."

Erling bowed slightly. "Very good, your highness. One moment."

The liquor cabinet in the library was closest. Erling started to make up a tray, then hesitated on actually bringing the decanter with him. On the one hand, they could probably spare it, but on the other, given the prince's current state, Erling didn't want to leave him _alone_ with it.

He compromised with a very generous ration.

Once he'd delivered the anesthetic and checked on the prince's immediate needs, Erling returned downstairs, stole a sandwich for himself, then took Prince Hans' boots to the workroom to clean them up.

His father was there, eying the stitching on Prince Martin's boot soles. Erling drew up a seat next to him and picked up a brush. "Father."

"Erling." Father sighted down the sole and sighed. "This is going to age me another twenty years."

"I need advice," Erling said as he started cleaning. "On feathers. Care and maintenance of."

His father frowned. "As on a hat?"

"As on a bird."

"Hmmf." Father decided that the sole would do _for now_ and reached for the boot black. "Most birds clean their own feathers."

"This one can't," Erling said. "He's having enough trouble trying to button his own trousers."

That actually got his father to stop working for a moment in surprise, a sight that Erling never thought he'd see. "That's right," he said after a moment, "I heard there was one with a swan wing."

"Mmm-hmm," Erling said. "It's Prince Hans, the one we had all that trouble with."

"Hmm," was his father's only comment. "Well. He'll want something to oil them with, once they're clean. Here," he reached out and picked up a small tin of mink oil. "Try this. And you'll need something to brush it on with."

Erling tucked the tin into his pocket gratefully. "There has to be a workable brush around here somewhere."

Prince Hans' boots were well made and cleaned up with a minimum of fuss. Erling checked his watch, then went to give Kai more grief.

"That wasn't half an hour," Kai said. "Talk to Olga."

Olga was _new_ , which meant she'd been hired since the Queen's coronation, but she knew her business and was cheerful and willing, most days. Given the general air of this day, Erling expected her to box his ears.

Instead, she tucked a few wisps of straw-blonde hair behind her ears and said, "Give it another twenty minutes, we've got hot water but we're out of bathtubs."

"Of all the--" Erling stared in amazement. "What happened?"

"Turns out a lot broke in storage last summer, in the deep freeze. Who knew we'd need to bathe an entire royal household in one day?" She shook her head. "We'll get it soon enough, they're all hungry and not spending a lot of time soaking."

Timing. Erling massaged his throbbing head. He was good at his work, he could manage this. "Do we have paintbrushes?" he asked her, in an attempt to solve at least one of his problems.

She stared at him. "Paintbrushes."

"Small ones, for painting... do not look at me like I'm daft, Olga, I need one tonight. Possibly two or three."

"I'll check," she finally said. "You'll have to give me a minute."

"If I had one to spare," he said, "I'd be digging through our storeroom myself."

She snorted. "Right. Go check on your princeling."

Erling's princeling was probably fine for a few more minutes, but the sudden awkward lull in activity was tying Erling's stomach in a knot. He paced in the hallway outside the tailor's workroom until Pierre poked his head out and cursed at him in French.

"How's it coming?" Erling asked.

Pierre scowled. "If you are not going to help, go away!"

Erling hated waiting. Especially when it appeared that once the waiting was over, everything would happen at once. He stalked back toward the cleaners' to check on Hans' coat and was nearly run over by Heinrik, the boy assigned to Kristoff. "Woah, there! Watch where you're headed."

"Sorry, sir," Heinrik said. Kristoff--Mr. Bjorgman, properly--had not taken to the improvement in his station that came with being the princess' favorite with much grace. After driving three servants nearly mad, the staff had given up and elevated the newest and clumsiest stableboy to Kristoff's service, reasoning that they could learn together. It had worked surprisingly well, with the only downside being that the rest of them had to chip in on any occasion that the princess' companion needed to be truly turned out.

Such as tonight. Oh, dear.

"Is everything well with Mr. Bjorgman, Heinrik?" Erling asked.

"Yessir, but--" Heinrik looked suddenly stricken. "Oh, it's just that there's all these princes, and the foreign king, and he's been asked to dinner but he doesn't want to go. So I thought if I could find something to smarten him up a bit so he wouldn't look so out of place, he'd feel better."

Erling patted Heinrik on the shoulder and shelved his own worries for a moment. "Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

Ducking underneath Fiona's watchful glare, Erling and Heinrik found a sash in Arendelle purple and a corsage of the last of the snow crocuses in the same color. "There, he can give this to the princess, and then they'll match."

"Brilliant!"

"And..." Erling's eye had caught something sparkling. He pulled from a pile of discarded cufflinks a single cravat pin, figured in the shape of a reindeer's horns. "Look at this, I think this dates back to the last century. Go on, see how he likes that."

Fiona raised an eyebrow over her pressing as Heinrik ran out with his prizes. "You shouldn't encourage him."

"How else are we going to get any work out of him, if he's not encouraged?" Erling checked his pocketwatch. "How's that coat coming?"

"It _might,"_ Fiona said darkly, "be done in time for dinner, if you don't interrupt me again."

Erling shook his head and left her. He ran into Olga in the hallway. "Paintbrushes," she said, handing him a handful of slim ones. "Bathtub."

"Truly?" he said, feeling slightly giddy.

"Truly," she said. "Come on, get going."

Running water was a modern convenience only recently come to Castle Arendelle. The old king had insisted on installing basic amenities in every suite, but there hadn't been time to fit more than the first few bathtubs before the castle had gone dark and no workmen had been allowed in. Most suites still had to be serviced by hand.

So it was a small army that Erling choreographed to get Prince Hans a tub, proper temperature water, and enough soap. He left the prince with the barber attending his head and went to collect his re-fitted clothing.

When he returned, it was to find Prince Hans standing half-wrapped in his towel with his wing over the tub, staring at the water sluicing from his now ragged feathers. The prince looked up with a terrified expression and said, "I think I've made a mistake..."

"More towels," Erling said to a runner in the hall. "And a spare pair of hands."

"I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea," Prince Hans said as Erling wrapped him in the house coat and retrieved the towel. It took some effort to get his drenched wing through the hole where the sleeve had been, but eventually Erling turned his attention to pressing the accumulated water out of the prince's feathers.

"Unfortunately, your highness," Erling said as the prince's wing went from 'soaked through' to 'wet', "waterfowl feathers are only waterproof when oiled."

"So I see," Prince Hans said. His primaries twitched damply. "What a mess I've made of everything..."

Erling paused in his reply. "At least some messes are easily remedied, your highness," he said.

Prince Hans' startled expression was interrupted by a knock on the door as the promised help arrived. It took three more towels and the full blaze of the fire to get Prince Hans' feathers mostly dry; Erling then pulled out his small array of paintbrushes and prayed to every higher power he knew that this would work.

"Hunh," Prince Hans said when Erling started painting the oil on the feathers on his shoulder.

"Is that uncomfortable, your highness?" Erling asked.

"No, no, it's good," Prince Hans said. He craned his neck to try and watch. "Like getting lotion on your hands once they've dried out, you know?"

"Indeed, your highness," Erling said. He handed the other paintbrushes to Tobias and Ivar and watched them get to work. Why did swans have so many damn feathers?

Between the three of them, they got all of Prince Hans' feathers oiled and then wiped clean in less than half an hour. His wing really did look better after the attention; the feathers were so bright they gleamed.

Erling shooed the others out, helped Prince Hans into his new clothing, and just as he was finishing buttoning the shirt around the prince's wing, a knock on the door sounded and Heinrik said, "Begging your pardon, I've brought the prince's coat."

Erling opened the door with a measure of nerves, but the coat Heinrik was holding was spotless. Fiona had sewn on a frog clasp in gold braid to cover the alterations Erling had made, and stitched the lining and the facings back together neatly.

Erling turned to Prince Hans, who was staring at him, and held up the coat. "Your highness?"

"Yes, of course," the prince said, and stood still as Erling finished dressing him. Erling brushed off Prince Hans' shoulders, straightened his jacket, and turned him toward the mirror.

For a moment, Prince Hans just stared. He reached up and ran his thumb along his lapel, then smoothed his hand down his front. "Wow," he said.

Erling waited for a moment, then said, "Dinner will be served within the hour; there are drinks in the ballroom."

"Thank you," Prince Hans said, turning from the mirror. He looked terribly vulnerable, like a new-fledged hawk about to take his first flight.

Erling had to remind himself that this young hawk had already drawn blood. "I'm glad you're pleased, your highness."

"Well." Prince Hans flexed his wing gingerly, then patted himself down again. "... miss my gloves," he muttered to himself. "I should get a new pair..." he grinned, suddenly impish. "Or at least a new right one."

Erling bowed slightly. "I'll see if we have anything appropriate, your highness."

"Oh." Prince Hans blinked. "I wasn't... yes, if you could. Thank you."

"Your highness."

Prince Hans gave him another look, this time more appraising, then turned and left, heading down toward the light and noise of the party below.

Erling closed his eyes and swayed on his feet. Well. He'd bloody done it, hadn't he?

He headed back downstairs for his own dinner and to take a well-deserved rest. On his way in, he made sure to thank Tobias and Ivar and Heinrik and Fiona and Olga and even Pierre for their help in pulling off what felt like a minor miracle.

"Did he even thank you for putting him back together?" Fiona asked.

Erling nodded. "Prince Hans' fault was never lack of manners," he pointed out. "It was lack of empathy."

"Unlike some of his brothers," Tobias muttered darkly. "Have you met Prince Egon yet?"

"No?" Erling said. "I don't think so."

Tobias snorted. "You'd know."

After supper Erling snuck into the stores to see if there were any men's gloves left. Hans' hands were slightly smaller than his own, which meant all the pairs they had were going to be too big. He was about to despair when he turned up a pair of white kidskin gloves in the right size. Perfect. Prince Hans could visit his own glover if he wanted anything else.

He tucked the gloves in his pocket and took a deep breath. Hopefully the prince wouldn't have too many last-minute requests before he left in the morning. At least the royal household of the Southern Isles didn't have much luggage. At the moment, Erling wanted them out of Arendelle Castle with the least amount of fuss possible.

It was thus with no premonitions of doom or sense of foreboding that Erling headed back toward the kitchen, which was suddenly abuzz with noise. "What did I miss?" he asked.

"The Queen is getting married!" Gerta exclaimed.

Erling stared at her in surprise. Well, he supposed, there were twelve other princes there, one of the dozen had to be reasonable. "To whom?"

"Princess Helena," Inge said.

For a moment, Erling thought he'd misheard. Then he thought it over. "Well," he finally said, "Congratulations and joy to them both. Is this entirely without precedent?"

"We have no idea what we're going to do for the wedding," Fiona moaned. "Two brides? We'll have to run the kingdom out of lace, and that's just for the dresses!"

Erling shook his head and was going to join the discussion when the sense of foreboding finally caught up to him, in the figure of Kai, standing in the doorway and clearing his throat. "Erling, a moment?"

Kai relayed the news in the hallway. Erling stared at him impassively. "For how long?"

"We aren't certain yet," Kai said, fiddling with his watch. "But I expect he'll be lodging with us until the royal wedding."

Erling pinched the bridge of his nose. "Won't he send for his own man from the Southern Isles?"

"Possibly, though," Kai smirked, "I'm given the impression that you're rather more skilled than anyone who's been assigned him before."

"Ah, lovely," Erling said, "The reward for a job well done is to continue doing it."

"Indeed." Kai paused to let him get comfortable with the disappointment for a moment, then said, "I know that serving a man who has been a villain and a criminal is hardly a step up in life. But at least you'll have scope for your considerable talents."

"Fah," Erling said.

Kai patted him on the arm. "You'll do fine, Erling. Let me know if you need anything."

"I do, actually." Erling pulled the tin of mink oil out of his coat. "For his highness' feathers. I need to have something compounded that smells better than this."

Kai blinked at the tin, then took it gingerly. "I'll see what I can do."

Erling didn't bother returning to the kitchen. He went back to Prince Hans' room and let himself in.

The bathtub had been removed and the water cleaned off the floor. The prince didn't have any possessions to tidy or put away, so Erling pulled out his sewing kit and started neatening up the alteration job he'd done to the house coat. He'd just finished putting some extra buttons in when Prince Hans opened the door.

"Oh," the prince said as Erling got to his feet. "I suppose you've heard, then. That I'm staying."

"I hope you'll be satisfied, your highness," Erling said. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable."

Prince Hans nodded, plucking at the buttons on his coat in what on anyone else Erling would have called a nervous gesture. "She's my sister," he finally said.

Erling raised an eyebrow. "Your highness?"

"She's my only sister--my _twin_ sister," the prince continued. "She's just about the only person in the world I truly care about except myself. And she's very happy here."

"Indeed, your highness," Erling said as neutrally as he could.

Prince Hans shook his head. "All I mean is that I couldn't do anything to hurt her. I know that by staying here, I'm making things difficult. But I won't do anything--anything _else_ ," he corrected himself quickly, "to harm Arendelle."

"That is reassuring, your highness," Erling said, disallowing himself even a trace of irony. He pulled the gloves out of his pocket and extracted the right one. "If you'll allow me, your highness, I'd like to check the fit."

"Oh!" Prince Hans held out his hand and let Erling slip the glove on. The fit was almost perfect, if a bit roomy in the wrist. "Wow. This is--how have you managed to work so many miracles, just tonight? No, I'm serious," the prince said, gently touching Erling's shoulder, attentive but not posessive. "You... I don't deserve you."

Erling didn't particularly feel like disputing him. "'Use every man after his desert and who would 'scape whipping,'" he quoted instead.

Prince Hans blinked at him. "Shakespeare?"

"We have a good translation in the library, as well as the originals," Erling said.

The prince eyed him speculatively. "Can you read English?"

"Among a handful of languages, your highness."

"And spoken?"

Erling hesitated for a moment. "Fewer than I read, your highness; there's less opportunity to practice."

"And you solve seemingly intractable problems in record time, and you produce miracles," Prince Hans cut himself off and shook his head. "How is it that I'm treated with far more consideration in the kingdom I tried to overthrow than I am at home?"

"Perhaps your highness has the cause and effect reversed," Erling suggested dryly.

The prince looked at him again. "And you have a sense of humor. How did you get assigned to me?"

"The whims of fate, your highness."

Prince Hans' demeanor suddenly went dark again. "Drew the short straw, huh."

Erling winced inwardly. "Your highness' condition necessitated some special handling," he said. "It was thought that someone with experience should assist you."

"Oh." The prince looked down at his wing and wiggled it gingerly. "Ah. Yes. That."

"Might I suggest sleep," Erling said. "Many times a seemingly impossible problem looks less daunting in the light of morning."

Prince Hans nodded. He looked at himself in the mirror again, turning slightly to see his reflection in profile. "I suppose it doesn't look too bad," he said. "Ruins the line of the jacket a bit, though."

Erling considered briefly. "Perhaps we'll find you a cape, your highness."

"Perfect." Prince Hans squared his shoulders briefly, then sighed. "That's one problem solved. The hundred others can wait until tomorrow."

Erling helped the prince to bed with that thought in mind.

Afterward, he headed downstairs and out the back door to the water access in search of his target. The castle was quiet, the light dim. Above, the canopy of winter stars shone bright.

Smoking was officially not allowed in the castle, but Kai had a stash of Hongroises that he kept for difficult occasions. Such as tonight. He offered up his cigarette case at Erling's look and struck him a light.

"So?" Kai asked, after Erling had exhaled a plume of bitter smoke.

Erling took another drag and sighed. "I didn't say I won't do it."

"You did an excellent job tonight," Kai said. He tapped his ash over the water and the gray flecks vanished into black. "I don't know how much gratitude you're getting--"

"Oh, no," Erling said, shaking his head. "Gratitude I have. Gratitude from an unlikely and politically unwise source, yes, but gratitude nonetheless. The problem is that I can't dislike him."

Kai raised an eyebrow.

Erling bit off a growl and filled his lungs with smoke again. "I can't serve him and dislike him," he clarified. "And I don't want to like him. I've been in service here all my life, I know what he did to the princess and what he nearly did to the queen. I want to be free to hate him for that. And now he's our guest and my charge, and I can't."

"I'm sorry," Kai said, "But no one ever said this life would be easy."

"No, I recall that as recently as last week you said it was thankless toil without end, with only the legacy of a grand and glorious tradition to guide us," Erling said. "But I always believed it would be _our_ grand and glorious tradition I was upholding."

"Hospitality." Kai finished his cigarette and flicked the butt into the water. "We're one of the last fortresses this far north, and we have a tradition of hospitality to uphold. Even to our enemies."

"You're making that up to make me feel better."

"Yes."

Erling took another drag and rolled his eyes. "I never said..."

"Yes, yes." Kai patted him on the shoulder. "I'll sneak a carton of cigarettes into the country for you, how's that?"

"Make it two." Erling finished off his own cigarette and smirked. "And make them Vizirs. I don't want you getting them mixed up with yours."

"On my _honor_ ," Kai exclaimed, hand clasped to breast. "Are you seeing cheating everywhere? You've already been around him too long."

"That's the idea, Kai," Erling said. "That's the entire idea."

**Author's Note:**

> The cigarette brands "Hongroises" and "Vizirs" are better known by their post-1910 rebranding names "Gauloises" and "Gitanes".


End file.
